Distraction Gaol
by Carthienes
Summary: Scenes appear before me, demanding to be written, regardless of if they pertain to the story I am writing or not. Perhaps, if I lock them up in here, I might get back to the stories I want to write? Some scenes may turn into full stories later, of course.
1. Chapter 1

Saber Returns to Shirou

As Emiya Shirou strolled along the narrow footbridge on his way to work, his found his gaze drawn to the sun set. He was really growing to hate the sight or, maybe, growing to hate his own weakness. The sun crossing the distant horizon – such things reminded him of Saber, of their parting. The hollow ache in his chest throbbed, at once more painful than Bezerker's axe-sword tearing his stomach out. Unlike then, there was no nausea to distract him. This pain ran deeper than any wound.

He always swore to himself that he would have no regrets, but that promise had never been harder to keep. He kept up outside appearances (though he was sure that Rin suspected something) but alone he could admit to himself – this past week had been hell. He forced himself to go through the motions of his life, pretending that all was well and the Grail war had never happened, but he still wept for the Girl he had been unable to save. For all he'd learned, all the power he'd gained, he could not save Saber from her fate.

Unable to bear it, his gaze dropped from the sunset to the wreckage of the ship Saber had sunk on his father's order. No, bad choice. This walk had too many memories, but there was the little row boat, it's blue-dressed passenger clad in steel and glowing with the power of Avalon.

Wait…

Before the sight had truly registered, Shirou had leapt from the bridge, instinctively strengthening his body to withstand the impact. The boat rocked when when he landed, disturbing the passenger who's beautiful blue eyes slowly flickered open as he steadied himself. He caught his breath as he gazed into the eyes he'd thought he'd lost, warmth blooming in his chest to fill the hollow void as her unseen lips twitched into a slight smile.

"Tadaima, Shirou."


	2. Chapter 2

Evil Always Finds A Way...

"It's Hopeless!" He raged, storming into his lair, "The idiots just won't listen!"

"Who won't listen to you, Sir?" Minion asked.

" _Politicians_ ," Megamind sneered, "I thought solving world hunger would be an interesting challenge, now that I'm not a bad guy any more, but they won't let me!"

"Wait, You're not being allowed to solve world hunger?" Roxanne was a frequent visitor to his lair these days, enjoying his company as often as she could.

"They're stalling, naming pointless excuses, and ignoring solutions" Megamind grumbled, dropping into his favourite chair, "Ration bars solve hunger, and I can freely manufacture and distribute more than enough for everyone – I just can not distribute them outside Metrocity"

"Well, those ration bars do taste horrible" Roxanne smiled, having tried one earlier.

"That's deliberate," Megamind dismissed the complaint, "Basic economics. The food industry don't want the market flooded with free good food, but if they taste bad enough to be everyone's last resort rather than their first, no competition"

"That's actually surprisingly thoughtful," She murmured in reply, "So, you're just waiting on permission?"

"Not getting it," he muttered, "Not going to get it either. They don't want hunger solved. Or just not by me, perhaps."

"Well, you're still an evil supervillain," Roxanne mused, "Perhaps you should expand your conquests."

"Conquest..." Megamind mused, "Wait, what?"

"You never actually officially stepped down as Evil Overlord of Metrocity," she pointed out, "You just let the old administration take over the boring paperwork again. You being Evil Overlord of Metrocity is why you can distribute your 'cure' here – so expand on that. You are still the cool supervillain who saved me from Hal, be the cool supervillain who saves the world from itself."

"A supervillain who saves people..."

"It's like you told Tighten, it's all in the presentation. When you came to save me, you didn't ride in on a beam of sunlight to the strains of an angelic chorus." she smiled, "You flew in black cloud, thick with lightning and brainbots, a pounding beat in the background. It was villainous, but you won, you saved the city."

"She has a point, Sir," Minion added, "You haven't exactly abandoned your supervillain aesthetic for the whole "Defender of Metro City" thing."

"So, miss Ritchie," Megamind mused, the old familiar smirk gracing his lips, "You want me to play the villain, and terrorise the world into submission?"

"You are kind of good at that," she nodded, before adding, "I'll even be your evil queen if you want..."

"Evil… Queen!" Megamind gasped, his mind going blank.

"Oh dear, I think you broke him, miss Ritchie."

"Don't worry, Minion," she replied, "I'll put him back together again."

"The world for my queen," Megamind muttered to himself as he suddenly turned to his keyboard, "The world for my queen."

"Whatever gave you the idea?" Minion asked Roxanne, who shrugged in response.

"Evil always finds a way." she told him, as she Megamind's brain kick into high gear.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunrider saves Shephard

"The paths are open."

The bland, broken VI stood aside, leaving Sukhi to make her choice, but despite her injuries the commander felt a tranquil fury. To passively accept the strange horrors to being forced on the galaxy would be to spit in the face of all she and her allies had fought for. There had to be a better way. There always was.

Lurching from her reverie, Shephard staggered a few steps forwards, mustering her will to achieve what must be done. The little blue thing bobbed along in her wake, silent, until she stopped at the midpoint of her 'choice' and mustered her breath.

"I'm taking a third option." she announced.

"Synthesis is inevitable." the VI reminded her.

"Not your third 'option'" she retorted, "I'm ripping reality a new one!"

"Wait… what?"

This was something beyond the bounds of it's admittedly limited programming. As the Virtual Intelligence struggled to parse Sukhi's declaration within the confines of it's chosen choices, the Commander's body flared bright with biotic power. With a grunt of effort she pulsed her power into the mechanism before her, and quickly made good on her promise.

The VI still failed to comprehend as the Crucible flared bright, tearing reality asunder.

"Report!" Captain Kayto Shields struggled to make himself heard over the racket of the alarms as the Sunrider settled around him.

"We seem to have fallen through a Plot Hole," Ava Cresentia, first officer, managed to maintain her calm demeanour despite the sudden violence of their arrival, "All systems are green, but the drop zone's hot - we're in the middle of a battle."

Before Shields could press for more detail, a mangled body appeared on his bridge in a bright flash. It collapsed with a groan, seemingly still alive.

"Medic!" he shouted as he rushed to catch the fallen warrior.

"I think she's lost, Captain." Ava chided him.

"Not lost yet," the battered body whispered, "Must save galaxy...Reapers...kill all,"

"Medics to the bridge!" Ava snapped into the comn. "Prepare sickbay for nanobot treatment."

A hurried chorus of affirmatives echoed in reply as Kayto tried to assess the damage. It was amazing that the body in his arms still had breath, much less speech, but the Sunrider shook around him, a reminder that this was far from over.

"Analysis, Ava." he snapped, distracted.

"Several small craft are closing on our position," she replied, "Ryder sized, unknown configuration."

"Occuli," the battered one whispered.

"A few of the larger vessels appear to be taking an interest in us as well."

"Reapers,"

"Put the situation up on the monitor," Shields ordered, "And prep all Ryders for immediate launch."

The viewscreen flickered before presenting a image of the approaching Occuli – small pods that spat red bolts from the glowing eye that served as their dominant feature. In the background, squid-like monstrosities that he could only assume where starships were being assailed by more traditional craft. The image was soon blotted out by the swarm of Occuli surrounding the Sunrider, forcing Shields to focus on the more immediate problem.

"Get our flak turrets working – fast!" he ordered, "Ryders are to form a tight perimeter around the Sunrider – no heroics until we know what we're up against."

"Ready to Roll!" was the response.

Ava sighed at the disappointing attitude, although the formation Asaga pulled together fit Shields' command perfectly.

"Raise shields and steady engines," he added, "The Sunrider is joining the fight!"

As they watched, a small swarm of Occuli casually dropped through their flak and opened fire. The Sunrider shook as those bolts found their mark, but Ava spared the damage displays a dismissive glance before summarising the attack:

"Our hull is holding,"

Shields spilt his attention between the tactical displays and his pilot's comn. chatter. The displays showed that the Occuli where easy targets, however...

"Aww, stop moving around so much."

"That was your warning shot."

"You didn't see that, alright? Alright?"

"What is happening out there?" Shields demanded, "Have our targeting computers crashed or something?"

"Captain," Chigara interrupted, "I have a theory..."

"Let's hear it,"

"I hope this hits..."

Shields watched the bright blue bolts of the Liberty's laser rifle diverge as they sped through space. The four beams smashed squarely into the front of the lead Occuli, which fell away in a plume of flame. For a moment, stunned silence echoed over the comn.

"I'm glad that's over." Chigara ended it.

"What just happened?" Shields managed to ask.

"The enemy seems to have some sort of repulsor that deflects kinetics," Chigara explained, "Laser fire cuts strait through it."

"Ava!" It did not take long for the implications to sink in.

"Take Them Out." she repeated to the pulse cannon batteries.

"Imma fireing my lazors,"

"What about the rest of us?" Icari demanded as she slipped away from another volley.

"I must concur with our mercenary on this," Kryska intercepted a shot with the Paladin's shield as she slid into a defensive position, "Without kinetics, we're dead weight out here!"

"Dang it, Captain!" even Claude was getting irate, "I'm a doctor, not a..."

"Energy levels in the Occuli repulsors are fluctuating," Chigara sounded distracted as she patched up the Paladin's scratched hull, "Repeated, powerful, or unusual hits should erode or penetrate the effect."

"Firing cannon!" Kryska barked as the Liberty slipped aside, the Paladin's main guns locking into place as another Occuli dropped on the little blue ryder.

The cannon fired in sequence, shaking Kryska's green ryder, but the shells found their mark. Shields watched the first glance off a red flare, but the second round punched through and the third struck the exploding Occuli without resistance. Nearby, the Bianca fired a blast that bathed another Occuli in red before Sola scrapped it with an understated bolt. Icari, however, had other ideas. Eschewing gunfire entirely, she pounced on the nearest target.

"One cut, One kill!"

"That has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever seen," Ava muttered to herself, an aside that was meant for no one, as the Phoenix plunged it's blade towards it's target.

"And that's how it's done!"

"Stupid or not, it worked." Shields murmured to himself as the Occuli exploded, "Icari! Claude! Kryska! You're the forward team, get in close and personal – you're as good as useless at range."

"Captain, you'd better keep your eyes on me..."

"Asaga keep to your lasers – you and Sola stick close to the Sunrider. Chigara, support whoever needs it most."

"Please don't move me too far away, Captain."

"Backing up!"Asaga cheerfully gunned down another target as she obeyed, "Beep, Beep, Beep!"

The assault team swept space clear around the Sunrider, supported by the flashing pulses of the remaining ryders and the Sunrider herself. Shields found himself able to return his gaze to the main monitor. The waning cloud of Occuli parted once more, revealing the horrible majesty of the orbital battle. One of the larger Reapers dominated the scene, surrounded by a dozen of it's smaller kin and assailed by what looked like a fleet of more conventional craft. As Shields watched, the largest Reaper had a limb shot off – in retaliation it pointed a lazy finger at the nearest vessel and blew it apart with a crimson beam.

"Sweet Mother of God." Ava whispered, "What disgusting firepower."

"Reaper, Sovereign class," A new voice informed them, "Forged from the still-living, molten bodies of an entire galactic civilization. The smaller ones are believed to be forged less consistently, from the dregs."

Still clad in the battered remnants of her armour, Sukhi Shepard stepped into view. She ignored the medics swarming around her, her augmented body already back on the road to health, and focused on the captain. He seemed clearly human, though he was not wearing any uniform she recognised. Probably a mercenary, unless her latest ploy had proven more successful than even she dared hope.

"Care to explain why you teleported onto our ship?" the strict officer next to the captain demanded.

"You probably know more than I," Sukhi replied, "I broke the Crucible, and then all hell broke loose. I woke up in here."

The strict officer frowned, obviously displeased with that response, but her captain was still focussed on the tactical monitors. Sukhi could see a handful of Reaper destroyers bearing down on them – only a handful, but enough to overwhelm most lone vessels – and this particular ship did not appear very close to her allies formation.

"Ryders, fall into a defensive formation at the forward position," the captain ordered, "Prepare for a rush – the Sunrider is moving forwards."

Sukhi was shocked at the man's apparently cavalier attitude – had she misunderstood the strange terminology?

"Spool up the warp drive for a short range jump, Ava," he continued, "We are going to need to time this perfectly."

"Aye, Captain,"

Sukhi watched, uncomprehending, as preparations for their next action were completed with commendable alacrity. With a glance at the display screen the Captain, 'Shields', nodded confirmation. Ava relayed the command and the screen flashed white for a moment.

"Jump Successful." Ava commented as the screen cleared.

Sukhi stared in horror at the sight before her. A Reaper destroyer loomed large, almost point-blank before them. Two more could be seen behind it, several Occuli as well. Was this…

"This is my command," Shields announced, "Prepare to fire the Vanguard cannon. Vanguards: Fire!"

The ship shook under Sukhi's feet, and once again the screen went white.


	4. Chapter 4

The Matriarch's Report

The Matriarch stood before the holoterminal, her face grim as a connection was established with the Citadel. Normally she would have typed up a report and waited until the council wanted to contact her, but today was different. Today she had a major incident to report, and she could not let it be delayed any further.

"Matriarch," Councillor Tevos greeted the ambassador calmly, "I presume that you have success to report."

"No, Councillor." she replied, "As a result of the Turian ultimatum, I was unable to proceed in a suitable manner."

"Nonsense," Councillor Sparatus scoffed, "Eight weeks is more than sufficient to establish the peaceful integration of a new race into the Ascension process, unless they are hostile as the Rachni."

"That may have been true, Sparatus," the Matriarch spoke stiffly, "If you had started counting from the time we had actually established viable communications with the race in question. After the Turian patrol blew apart their probe, we knew nothing of them save the fact that they existed. It took us weeks to track down another of their probes; and weeks more to establish a minimal communications link through an unmanned device that was never intended to function as such a relay. By which point your appointed time frame had elapsed. Though their ambassador made himself available with commendable alacrity, I could only hope to avert your warmongering if he chose to immediately submit within the first hour of our meeting."

"I find that an unlikely turn of events." the Salarian councillor interjected, "No race is known to move with such haste, not even the Vorcha."

"Correct, Councillor." the Matriarch replied, "There is, however, one means of speeding the dialogue that remained available to me."

"Matriarch," Tevos voice was grim and steady, "Are you meaning to intimate that you melded with the alien Ambassador?"

"Attempted to, Councillor." the Matriarch corrected, "His response was somewhat... surprising. I attached our security recordings to the report, but they won't show everything."

"Peculiar ship," the Salarian muttered to himself, obviously reading the report in the background.

"Indeed, Councillor." the Matriarch replied, "Cruiser weight, yet built in three distinct segments – a tubular main body, with a circular hull attached atop and two large nacelles to the rear. Each segment separate and distinct, frigate weight, yet altogether the vessel itself is cruiser weight. I believe that it was a diplomatic gesture – though the vessel itself is cruiser weight, and could support cruiser grade barriers and armour, it could not mount a cruiser grade gun. Clearly, this new species can build cruisers, but are peaceable enough not to send them to greet a peaceful emissary."

"And their deployment of this vessel suggests that they are very familiar with such vessels, able to deploy them in number." the Salarian was thinking aloud by this point, scanning the written report for more.

"True, but that is in my written report." the Matriarch retook control of the conversation, "I called to speak of the organic element. Their diplomatic cruiser deployed a smaller vessel from approximately 50,000 km away, which travelled at sublight velocities to a designated landing bay. Fortunately, we had been able to work out enough of a proto-language to transmit basic directions. Not that it would help in a face-to-face meeting, but at least it got us there."

The Matriarch paused and sighed, her mind playing back over the event.

"There were six of them," she recalled, her eyes distant, "Two in light environment suits, sensible I suppose, their heads exposed through the transparent helmets. The remaining four, completely concealed by their armour, were most likely bodyguards."

"What kind of bloodthirsty thug sends four bodyguards to a peace conference," Sparatus snorted.

"Besides a Turian?" the Matriarch's voice cut sharply through Sparatus' diatribe, "Perhaps one spooked by the blatant hostility of an alien race that blew apart one of it's unmanned vessels? Regardless, it is beside the point. Two of the guards stayed at the shuttle, rifles pointed down in an exaggerated show of peaceful intent, the other two shadowed the Ambassadors, their rifles stowed. After meeting them, I managed to convey my intent. Their was some discussion, most likely about the air, before one of the Ambassadors removed his helmet and I attempted the meld. I failed."

"Failed?" Tevos voice held a curious note, "I have never heard of a meld failing, Matriarch, were they machines?"

"No, Councillor, they were as biological as you or I." the Matriarch sighed in response, "And 'failed' was perhaps a poor analogy. I was repelled."

The Matriarch fixed each of the stunned councillors with a steely gaze before continuing, "When I first attempted the connection, I felt mild curiosity and hope, which immediately flashed into a sense of fear, fury and betrayal."

"Obviously these primitives intended to betray us from the start," Sparatus smugly asserted, but the Matriarch shook her head.

"Not a feeling of enacting betrayal, a feeling of falling victim to one." she corrected him, "Under it all, though, there was a steely will,a firm determination. It seemed to be a trained response, directed squarely at me as an intruder. All that I felt from him, I felt in less than a second of contact. First I was blocked, then I was immediately forced from his mind. It was extremely disconcerting to experience."

"I take it these aliens have similar abilities, and found your attempt offensive?" the Salarian councillor suggested.

"Perhaps, I can not say for certain, though his following actions suggest otherwise. The Ambassador dropped to his knees, half turned, and put his hands behind his head whilst shouting a single syllable. It clearly meant something to the others, who reacted with impressive alacrity. The other Ambassador struck me with his sword whilst the guards drew their guns."

At this the Matriarch raised her right arm – what was left of it. Her forearm had been cleanly sliced through, the wound cauterised by the strike. As the Councillor's stared in shock at the injury, the Matriarch continued unperturbed.

"I underestimated the weapon, and the speed with which she could strike. The first blow severed my arm before I could raise a barrier, the second sent me flying. The guards opened fire as the swordsman firmly bound the one with whom I had attempted to commune and dragged him back to the shuttle. The Five of them moved with commendable discipline – had they intended to make a fight of it, rather than simply retreat, I am quite certain that they could have captured our vessel. Three Commandos, 4 Turian guards and a Salarian sniper were killed, out of seenteen wounded. Not counting myself," She gestured with her missing limb, "Do not make the mistake of thinking that their blades are purely ceremonial. They may be intended as such, but they are made to be used, and their wielders are trained appropriately."

"Odd behaviour," the Salarian Councillor murmured, "Armed ambassadors suggests violent species, as does their lethality, but violent would have attacked, not retreated. Especially when it became clear they were superior."

"My own analysis was that they are more paranoid than violent." the Matriarch asserted, "Perhaps they had their own Rachni encounter, and treat each contact as the potential to follow suit."

"Perhaps," Tevos allowed, "If so, we must seek more peaceful relations with them."

"Nonsense," Sparatus scoffed, "They are worse than Krogan, clearly, and we all remember how they turned out."

"No, not really." Salarian replied, "No indication of Krogan tendencies. Krogan would have charged, even as they were overwhelmed by their foes. These aliens fell back even as they overwhelmed their enemies."

"You will need to sue for peace," the Matriarch informed them, her tone brooking no argument.

"Preposterous," Sparatus snarled, "They attack us, and you want us to back down?"

"As far as they are concerned, I declared war on them," the Matriarch reminded them, her voice as warm as the wastes of Noveria, "You will have to be the one's to convince them otherwise."

"Easily done," Sparatus told her, "I'll contact the Primarch, have an occupation fleet sent in. They'll soon change their minds when they see themselves loosing."

"If they loose," she retorted, "Which I doubt will be half as easy as you are intimating; they have proven far too competent for that. Even then, persuading the aliens that our intentions are genocidal will go a long way towards dissuading them from peace."

"Nonsense," Sparatus dismissed her, "Once we conquer them they will have no choice but to accept Citadel rule."

"Too many variables, not enough data." the Salarian muttered to himself, "Will take time before we can confront them. Have you managed to establish a dialogue?"

"We developed a digital proto-language," she replied, "I included it in my report. It will be enough to establish negotiations, but not complete them. You will need to include linguistic experts in the process to program our translators with the alien language, whatever it may be."

"We will make do with what we have, for now." Tevos interrupted her colleagues, "Matriarch, make your way back to the Citadel. I would debrief you in person. You are our only asset with any experience of the aliens, we will need that if we are to attempt a more peaceful encounter."

"Our vessel is en-route to the system the Turian Strike fleet is gathering in, for discharge." the Matriarch informed them, "I will advise our captain to make all speed for the Citadel once that is done."

"Thank you, Matriarch," Tevos spoke smoothly over Sparatus's blustering, "I look forward to our face to face meeting."

 _Matriarch Benezia T'soni was killed later that same day when her ship, the A.R.S. Integration, was destroyed in the first battle of the Human-Citadel war. Her last known communique was a private message addressed to a "Little Wing", sent through civilian channels. As the recipient has yet to come forth with the message, this holocall stands as the Matriarch's last known words._


	5. Hellgate Effect Essay

The fall of the Hellgate in 2038 was the most significant event in our combined history. Nations had risen and fallen before, but never had all fallen to the same event. Though this would seem to leave our world bereft of civilisation, an assumption that our enemies seem to have counted on, this was not to be the case. Small pockets of civilisation survived across the globe as humanity struggled to endure the onslaught and, though they were small, they were many. Previous differences in opinion and outlook were routinely cast aside in the face of an implacable, global threat. Small communities worked together to survive, and even thrive in the ruins of their fallen civilisations, and 2038 saw the culmination of those efforts with the fall of the first, and greatest, Hellgate.

In the aftermath of the fall, the intensity of the attacks notably dipped, and one would be forgiven for expecting mankind to fall back to infighting, but no such peril emerged. We had not won only to loose. Across the globe men counter-attacked their failing enemy, closing rift after rift. Coordination between local bands grew, spreading across the planet within a year, and soon mankind spoke with one voice for the first time since it's origin.

As the attacks of Hell faded to a manageable irritation men stopped and took stock of their situation. Their population had been greatly reduced, and though the next generation would see a baby boom they were still vulnerable. The forces of Hell are vast, and it is only their distraction that allowed us to escape annihilation. We looked up, to the stars, for the Earth had suffered terribly and it was only the resources stolen form our infernal invaders that allowed us to continue on as we did. Cabalists learned to teleport new satellites into orbit, mounting the Fawkes sensors that enabled us to pinpoint emerging rifts and finally surpass the greatest dangers of the infernal. This was our first great act of global cooperation, but it was certainly not our last.

Our first steps, oddly enough, were into Hell itself. Flush with success, a small cabal performed a ritual to open a Hellgate from our side. Immediately caught by the satellite network, they nonetheless succeeded. This immediately led to the formation of the Cabalist's guild, a global organisation both train new Cabalists and to contain (or at least channel) this kind of excess, with the Hunter's and Templar's guilds forming in response. The guilds formed the first part of our collective political will, but they were not alone for long. Other guilds formed, first being the Explorer's guild dedicated to expanding our sphere of influence and mapping new places to settle, but other organisations would soon follow.

The properties of the strange Hell-dimension from whence our attackers came are most peculiar, being both based on and quite distinct from our own. Each point in Hell is co-terminus with a matching location in our own dimension, but the reverse does not appear to be the case. As a result, the distance between two places in Hell is loosely proportional to the amount of "Locations of Interest" between them, as well as basic distance. The Cabal claims that the distances are relative, but the result is much the same. Flying through Hell is eminently possible, as much as in our native atmosphere, and combined with this peculiar property allows us to reach distant celestial bodies much more rapidly than should be the case.

Early trips to the Hellish equivalent of our Moon frequently overshot, leading to the deployment of radio beacons on the Hell platforms that formed our Moon's hell. It became apparent that each celestial body, be it Star, Planet or Moon, had it's own personal Hell – a collection of "platforms" floating in the infernal atmosphere. Radio Lighthouses, placed and maintained by the Explorer's guild, guided Hellships to their location, relatively safe ports amongst the infernal Hells of space. For Hell was still Hell, and heavily populated with demonic adversaries.

As mankind gathered it's strength and grew once more, a need arose to co-ordinate their efforts. The guilds already did so, at least within their own areas of expertise, but other alliances were forged and maintained on an ad-hoc basis by local groups. There was a growing demand for a formalisation of human cooperation, an overarching governance of our reach for the stars that was at odds with our demands for independence. The demons had, after all, taught us the folly of centralisation.

I will not detail the years of political infighting that took place as we formalised our allegiance to ourselves, but the result was the second element of our political will. Each small settlement, down to free-floating space stations, had it's own democratic rule. Elected positions had the power to make emergency decisions, but remained subject to the mercy of their people's will. Settlements banded together to form planets, with each settlement appointing a single representative, and granted a single vote, on planet-wide affairs. Planets similarly form their own democratic council to vote on Galactic affairs. In this way, every will is represented to some degree or another. Though imperfect, it has proven a robust system in the face of severe threats.

By this point we had colonised much of our own Solar system, and explorers had been dispatched to neighbouring systems. Civilisation was being rebuilt step by step, with a heavy trend to self-sufficiency and decentralisation. Much of the damage done by the invasion had been achieved by striking a relatively small number of targets. Never again could we allow this to happen. Nano-forges scaled up to provide the key manufacturing needs for entire settlements, though specialised factories remain more efficient, allowing each to specialise in a particular export. It was on Mars, however, that we were to make our next big discovery.

Infernal travel may be faster than normal space, but it is far from instant. Aliens had watched mankind in it's infancy, aliens that seemed untouched by the infernal despite the distances they would have travelled to reach us. They had their own technology, much of it dependant on a strange substance they called "Element Zero", which we later found in small caches throughout our system, and even later in larger mines elsewhere. Though strange, this alien technology proved quite compatible with our own. Our technological and industrial bases were still in flux, not yet having stabilised after the invasion and subsequent fall. Combining the alien and Human technologies with the strange magicks of Hell, we struck out from Earth, across the Phase Gate Network.

Within a Century, we had colonised many systems, spreading ourselves far and wide in an effort to avoid the death our species came so close to feeling. Yet everywhere we find signs of those that came before us, alien cultures that once crossed the Galaxy as we do, and once fell as we so nearly did. Always we are reminded of our past, and the frail nature of our survival.

Yet survive we have, and will. _Infernum Veniunt Aestu_.


	6. Chapter 6

The Rise of the Chanikov Imperium

The Chanikov Imperium is so named for Doctor Erik Chanikov, a brilliant scientist from the early twentieth century, and it is with him that our story truly begins. Though the good doctor would not live to see the birth of the Empire that would bear his name, without him it would never have come to be, for he devised the Sigma technology, and sired our Emperor, Rex Chance.

Though Rex grew up an orphan in America, far from both his father and his native nation, he grew into a somewhat successful journalist burdened by a healthy morality. As Doctor Chanikov laid the finishing touches to the first iteration of the Sigma technology he felt a need to reconnect with his lost son. The subsequent tale of discovery has been told many times, and need not be repeated here. What matters is that Rex Chance, allied with the future Empress Lucy, avenged himself of his father's murder and claimed the Sigma technology for himself.

The isolated heirs to the Chanikov dynasty remained separate from the world, perfecting their grasp over the Sigma technologies, as the Second World War erupted and devastated the world, before transitioning into the Cold War. It was only when the violence truly cooled that Rex Chance once more introduced himself to the world. 1987 saw the violence fade as sincere negotiations took place between the two sides and Rex Chance, a child of both, attended the conference.

The overbearing presence of his Sigma-conjured guardians stopped anyone rushing to deny the power of the Sigma technologies. His proposal was simple – rather than allowing their competition to fade into simple obscurity with it's belligerents, let a truly friendly rivalry drive their peaceful pursuits further and faster than ever before. For that relation to be sincere would require a far greater degree of interaction than simple peace.

Many were doubtful, despite the Sigma-forged creatures that guarded Rex Chance and Lucy Willing, when they offered their expertise in terraforming the inhospitable solar system into a playground far more conducive to human life. Controlled experiments in isolated, barren parts of the planet proved their point, however, and a decision was made to colonise the system. Not quite trusting each other, one took Venus and the other Mars, with the warning that more detailed scientific analysis would be needed before beginning a truly planetary transformation.

It was as the possibility of emigration was raised that the Chanikov's offered a further boon, and named it's price. The Sigma technology could be used to enhance the base template of a human body, though it would disintegrate on death like any other Sigma conjuration. Despite this apparent weakness, the enhanced body would be notably superior to the base human state, and far more resilient to the perils of space exploration. The price, however, was that space would not belong to the sponsors. Each Sigma-enhanced man would be considered king of his own State, consisting of as many Sigma creatures as one could control, and welcomed to join the Commonwealth of Sigma States.

Surprisingly this condition was readily accepted, as it played to the desires of the Communist and Capitalist both. In time, every man would be his own king, and rule the wealth of a small kingdom. Despite some grumbling, the Contest began in earnest, with many private individuals and corporations committing their resources to one side or another. Still, in their eager fervour, the contest remained quite friendly, with technologies being traded back and forth almost as fast as they were developed. By the close of the decade a small habitat had been carved out of the lunar surface, the first of six domes that would, together, form a self-sustaining ecosystem. Today, that six-dome colony is one of many to dot the lunar surface, and has been replicated across known space.

It took years to build and send the probes that would scan our closer planets for transformative potential, but in the end, nothing was left to chance. It was decided that a staggered process would benefit both worlds – the Capitalist capital of Mars was destined be somewhat barren compared to the lush jungles of Venus, but even that could be considered as much of an advantage as a penalty. It was in the year 2000 that the great discovery was made on Mars, one which would change the fate of humanity as greatly as the Sigma technologies.

Pioneers landed on Mars at the close of the twentieth century, establishing forward outposts in the partially transformed tundra of that red planet. They lived in a handful of six-dome colonies, monitoring the evolution of the planet that still demanded environmentally sealed suites of any who would venture outside. At the time, emigration was light – the expense of escaping Terra's gravity well great enough to discourage a mass exodus – and extensive use of Sigma creatures was required to make up the numbers for a successful colony. One such colony, based in the Promethei Terra, discovered an artificial base – an alien colony.

The aliens were long gone, however, samples of their technology were left behind. Much of it was similar, if much more advanced, versions of technology that were already known. The exceptions were based around the exploitation of a substance known as "Element Zero" to the long-dead aliens, which could be used to alter mass itself – the very source of the expense in emigration.

A deal was soon struck between East and West, unifying their scientists and engineers into a single project – using element zero to build a space freighter capable of hauling substantial quantities of Venusian atmosphere to Mars, improving the atmosphere of both worlds. These freighters would also be used to transport vast numbers of migrants once the worlds became habitable, allowing humanity to truly spread out over the solar system.

Sigma technology saw great application on earth, as well, with many who stayed paying for the augment procedure and acquiring command over their own little Sigma state (though they remained members of their previous nation unless they emigrated). Due to popular demand, the ban on experimenting with human forms was lifted, though there were stiff restrictions enforced, and the resulting creations had no more rights than any other Sigma Creature. Almost overnight, cat-girl maids became a common sight to the world, and many other such creations would follow.

Investigations into the ruined alien base soon unveiled the means by which they had reached our system, and humanity, in turn, stretched out across the stars. But the ruins also carried a serious warning – as advanced as these aliens were, they had fallen. Their empire was dust. Whoever killed them was still out there, and would threaten humanity in due course. The Commonwealth of Sigma States was not designed to repel a massive, outside invasion. Yet that structure was the origin of much of our present strength.

By popular vote, the Commonwealth was retained. The core of humanity joined into the Chanikov Imperium, a feudal state under Emperor Rex Chance and his Empress, Lucy Willing. Though they have passed on, their decendents continue to lead us with wisdom. The Commonwealth still welcomes all Sigma States that will adhere to their few rules, so those who do not wish for Imperial rule are not cast out into the bleak void.

Small kingdoms surround the Imperium, were every man is king in his own little realm. The squabbling between the Capitalist and the Communist has given way to the rivalry between the Biologists and the Mechanists, each trying to create creatures or drones that exceed the other, but we still hold on to the spirit of friendly competition that drove us to the stars. Though we have yet to encounter the ancient enemy, we stand ready to fight.

Our past demands it of us.

 _Author's Note: I am strongly considering an Alternative Timeline for this scenario; in which the sincere talks start in 1970, rather than 1987, as a result of the Soviet Union offering aid in the Apollo 13 disaster of that year. Note that, historically, SALT talks began in 1969 – the Cold War's Interbellum._


	7. Siege of Sorothustra

Queen Kelarset of Etherscape

I shifted nervously in my seat, stealing glances at my husband to distract from the scene on the view screen. Not the most handsome of men, despite the copious flows of Ether he commanded, the Emperor of Etherscape none-the-less carried himself with an indefinable charisma that seemed to draw the eyes (and lusts) of all. Though she had offered herself in a political marriage of convenience, she had fallen for him before their first encounter even ended. Today, however, not even her beloved could detract from her worries.

She had received a desperate call from her home planet of Sorothustra, reporting an attempt at invasion that was straining the planetary wards, and begged her husband to send assistance. He had responded, of course, and with commendable alacrity. Alone, in his new 'Diplomatic Cruiser' _Voyager_. It was scarcely 350 metres in length, armed with a quartet of missile tubes in pairs fore and aft. The vessels small stockpile of missiles were each armed with warheads capable of devastating a city with each shot. _Voyager_ was, in a word, chronically under-armed for an interplanetary warship. For a Trans-dimensional vessel, such paltry weapons were little more than a joke. The ship's saving grace lay in her ward-laced shields and regenerative armour, either of which could tank a supernova unscathed. Sadly, Sorothustra would need more than that.

When she had asked about the ship, the Emperor had claimed that it was a flight of nostalgia. The commission had pleased the Hegemonies, however, and they certainly spared no expense in outfitting the vessel. Though at first glance the bridge appeared austere, she knew that the silvery railing behind her head was forged, not from stainless steel (as she had originally thought) but a unique platinum alloy that flowed in barely detectable ripples. Once you knew that, the wealth was on display everywhere. From the Obsidian-Onyx screens to literally Diamond lights, the bridge alone was more ostentatious than a Liquid Gold Hot-tub, for all that it was as gaudy as an empty room. Her Emperor liked his subtle statements.

Shaking her head to clear the distractions, Kelarset looked back to the main viewer where Sorothustra was surrounded by a cloud of warships, their infernal lances straining the wards that a billion Sorceresses worked in shifts to maintain. They would fall, it was only a matter of time, unless her husband could talk the aggressors down.

"We are receiving an answer to our hails," One of the Thronemaidens reported, "One Ambassador Angron aboard the _Barbed Flogger_."

"Good," the Imperial Nova sighed, "Put him on screen."

The being who appeared on the main viewer possessed a violent visage that radiated malice. Deep red skin, crowned by horns of deep black. When he spoke, he exposed rotten black teeth and a tongue of worms:

"Ah, so the Emperor of Etherscape sends this 'help' for his queen's allies," Angron sneered, "I had expected more from the famed Etherscape Navies, but I suppose they have been neglected without an Emperor."

"I am here in an attempt to resolve the situation peacefully." Kelarset glanced sidelong at her Emperor's statement of the obvious, "This mindless aggression aids nobody."

"I suppose we would be forced to kill many to claim our prize," the daemon grumbled, "On behalf of the Infernal Legions, I'll accept Sorothustra's unconditional surrender; and demand one thousand Slaves as immediate recompense for the expense of mounting this assault."

"Unacceptable," the Emperor fired back, "That would only invite further attempts, distributing powerful mana-slaves into the hands of our mutual enemies."

"You can't stop us!" Angron snarled, "We will have that planet, and the Sorceries of Sorothustra! I already have a buyer for the first batch of unbroken slaves... the devastation will be glorious!"

"Not today, and not by you." the Emperor's voice was growing colder by the minute, "Please advise your ships that they can either flee, surrender, or die. I recommend the former."

"With an unarmed ship?" Angron snorted, "I think not; and if any of your warships do show up, we won't let them through our nets as we did yours!"

Kelarset's breath caught in her throat at that. Trapped, cut off from retreat or rescue! But her beloved husband merely gave the daemonic 'Ambassador' a grim smile, almost a smirk, as his voice dropped to a dangerous tone.

"Do you know what Etherscape's most dangerous weapon is, Ambassador?"

"Do I look like I care?"

"You should, Angron." by now the Emperor's voice was glacial, hard as diorite, and Kelarset's mana began to splutter as copious quantities of Ether streamed from her husband to embrace their small vessel.

"Etherscape's greatest weapon is the Imperial Nova." even the deamon shrinking a little under the pressure, "Me."

The Imperial Nova, Emperor of Etherscape

Angron's paling visage vanished in the face of my declaration, replaced by the image of a hive of activity around the planet as a number of Warships broke off from their attack on the planetary wards. Most maintained their assault, preventing the Sorothustran wards from recovering, whilst the rest...

"13 warships on an intercept course," my operations Officer reported, "They have assumed an attack formation."

"Hail them." I ordered.

"No response," came the inevitable reply, "They are attempting to jam our communications."

"Battle Stations." I nearly growled the order, plunging the bridge into crimson-hued shadows as the ruby lights started flashing.

All around me the atmosphere was tense. My loyal Thronemaidens trusted me implicitly, their blind loyalty was unquestionable, yet even they felt fear. Not seeing how victory might be obtained, that unknown frightened them. Reaching out, I felt for the flows of Ether emanating from my body, and twisted the into a cluster of missiles surrounding my ship. Crude things, a hundred metres in length and powered by a simple plasma drive, they leapt upon the approaching fleet with mindless glee.

The viewscreen showed the first flashes of enemy fire as their spinal weapons proved useless against my hastily conjured missiles, missing without fail. If hit the missiles would burst open, showering the enemy with thousands of metre-long penetrators. Closing my eyes I focused my power, reaching out once again to conjure a dozen sister-ships to my _Voyager_. These were the lighter, 'police' variant, much of the armouring omitted to allow for the installation of 14 Ether Beam banks. Whilst the weak weapons were only capable of vaporising a skyscraper, that more more than sufficient for policing and peacekeeping. Here, the Ether Beams' ability to slice through most defences would serve just as well.

With a thought I ordered the conjured vessels forward. Uncrewed, they responded to my will without hesitation and pounced upon the enemy as my missiles burst. The showers of sub-munitions swamped the enemies defences, reducing the ships to riddled hulks as I reached out further still, conjuring bombs in any crevice I could find.

I returned my focus to the bridge as the enemy exploded on screen, just in time to hear one of the Thronemaidens report ship systems switching to Ethertech. I cursed internally at that. Every Ethertech system on the ship had a built-in supplementary system built in, to ensure smooth functionality outside Etherscape with minimal Ether expenditure. Unfortunately, it appeared that I was outputting so much power that the ship thought it was operating in it's native Etherscape and had switched to pure Ethertech, which would put a crimp in my efforts. I made a mental note to get that fixed later and turned back to the enemy.

More ships had stopped firing on the planet, but there were no reports of fleeing or surrender. With a sigh I twisted the space between my hands, depositing conjured bombs aboard the enemy vessels before they realised that the 12 ships bearing down on them were not yet the real threat. Part of me dimly noted that Chyliss, my Enthroned, had me in her mouth; powering my magics to greater heights as I cast explosive death upon the enemy. Damaged ships lurched drunkenly in their orbits as my conjured vessels bore down on them, Ether Beams lashing out to clear their paths through the battle.

"Imperial Majesty, we are receiving a few offers of surrender." I was informed as the distant battle became more frenetic.

"Instruct them to fall into formation on our flanks," I replied, not allowing my attention to waver from the steady stream of nuclear ordinance I was deploying, "With their weapons fully offline. They will be safe if they stop shooting."

On the screen, a scant handful of vessels flew away from the besieged planet, ignored by both sides of the conflict. The handful became a trickle, though most remained committed to the fight. In my minds eye, I could almost see the progress of my conjured vessels, their powerful defences keeping them intact as they separated to infiltrate the enemy armada.

"Can you contact the Sorothustrans?" I asked.

"Yes, of course..." Kelarset replied before I cut her off.

"Then do so, tell them to brace themselves for a powerful blast."

My ships reached their destinations before slowing to a relative halt. Enemy attacks rained down on them, unabated by the return fire as the ships awaited their next orders. Absently acknowledging Kelarset's success in reaching the Sorothustran council, I reached out to my conjured creations with a final order:

"Initiate Self-Destruct."

You see, each ship was equipped with a powerful Ethertech core, capable of channelling the immense quantities of Ether that made the ship's systems function. Disabling the safety limiters and forceably ramming the ships' entire available Ether stores through the core would breach the containment around the core, resulting in a massive, uncontrolled release of energy. In laymans' terms, an explosion. A Very, Very Powerful one.

Twelve simultaneous blasts decimated the Infernal Legion's armada (I was not saddened to later discover that Ambassador Angron's ship was amongst the casualties). The surviving vessels were in no state to press the attack, and lacked the numbers to overwhelm Sorothustra's defences anyway. Soon vengeful curses were arching up from the embattled planet, smiting the few craft that remained somewhat battleworthy. Any that could, fled, bringing the brief battle to a close.

"Kelarset, Contact your people," I breathed a sigh of relief as I unloaded in the mouth of my Enthroned Chyliss, "Ask if they require any humanitarian assistance in the aftermath. Then come find me in the Imperial quarters. I think it's time I gave you a daughter."

Kelarset blushed beautifully as she stammered her agreement, before hurrying away to tend to the matter. Nudging Chyliss' head away I reached out to my personal bodyguard, Thevah, and pulled her into my lap.

"No daughter for you," I nuzzled into her neck, "But we do have a little time to kill..."


	8. Ambient Knapper

Beryl Flintson

BANG!

The sound echoed through the streets. The neighbours heard it, the strays heard it, and Nigel Nettlehand heard it. An Academic Mage by profession, and curious by nature, Nigel investigated. In a small cul-de-sac, surrounded by stone fragments, a young teen sat. Curious, Nigel took out his monocle.

"Beryl!" came an exasperated shout, "What have we told you about playing with the cobbles – especially at the expense of your chores!"

Master Nettlehand turned to glance at the shouter, an exasperated woman in a simple cotton dress. She stared at the teen as if hoping to cheat fate. In his monocle, magic glowed with a bitter silver light. He recognised the few simple charms placed about the area, deterrents to common hazards, but the strongest glow came from the stone shards surrounding Beryl.

"Did you do that?" he asked her.

"Shatter the cobbles?" replied the woman, "Of course she did! No one else round here seems able to do it, but the landlord is getting impatient."

"He will get over it," Beryl replied, gazing at the shards she had created. Strangely enough, she did not seem at all disturbed by the explosion she had witnessed. Looking closer, Nigel thought he saw something within her, but it was impossible to focus on. Focusing on his power, he drew a little into his finger tips.

"There is magic here." he declared. The woman looked at him as if he had lost his mind, but Nigel focused on the girl before him.

"And it wasn't done by me,"

"She's hasn't any magic. Our landlord had us all tested, but the magic-sniffers found nothing on any of us,"

"Magic is strange, and most magic sniffers can only identify 4 out of 5 potential mages. Academic mages, such as myself, are relatively easy to spot. But there are stranger magics..."

"Sir, forgive me, I did not know."  
"Know what?"

"That you spoke with authority."

Nigel looked up, smiling.

"And how could you, when I rudely forgot to introduce myself? Allow me to correct that error, I am Nigel Nettlehand, Graduate mage of Lightsbridge."

"Freewoman Sumalee, Master Nettlehand, and this is my daughter,"

"Beryl." Nigel turned back to the younger woman, "hold still,"

Reaching out, he released his power, tracing an esoteric sigil on Beryl's forehead. The view through his monocle disappeared as the sigil was flooded with magic. Instead, a series of distant visions flashed across the lens, of stone crashing against stone, of pebbles being ponded by bone, of rocks flaking under pressure. Images of Beryl's power.

"Curious," he murmured, as the images began to fade, "most curious."

"What did you do?" Beryl asked him.

"A relatively simple spell," he replied, "You do have magic, Beryl, but it is of a rather different sort than mine."

"What does that mean for my daughter?" Sumalee asked.

"That she must learn to master her power, lest it master her."

"I cannot afford lessons, Master Nettlehand," Sumalee's embarrassment was evident in her face, but Nigel smiled at her statement.

"As the mage who discovered her power, I am bound by oath to teach her myself, until such time as she has mastered her magic, or I hand her over to a more able tutor. I am also bound to ask no payment for this service, save requiring that Beryl completes her lessons as I require." He turned to Beryl, "you can do that, can't you?"

"Yes, sir,"

"If you are being formal, Beryl, you call me Master Nettlehand,"

"Yes, Master Nettlehand," she replied, not looking up from her stone shards.

"I will return tomorrow, Freewoman," Nigel told Sumalee, "I'll need to prepare her first lessons. Would an hour past dawn be too early for you?"

Freewoman Sumalee snorted, "I could have her ready an hour before dawn, if you wished, Master Nettlehand."

"No need to start too early, Freewoman, and Beryl will need her sleep when she starts working. Magic is rather like pushing boulders uphill – it exhausts those who don't do so regularly."

"As you wish, Master Nettlehand,"

"Please call me Nigel, Freewoman." Nigel asked, "We will likely be seeing a lot of each other, and 'Master Nettlehand' gets overly cumbersome after a few days."

"As you wish," she repeated.

Nigel departed with a smile.

Nigel was still smiling when he arrived at his lodgings. He had rented a small apartment between the river and the market, cheap enough for a much poorer man, but perfectly suited to his needs. The three rooms where not large, but they served him well. Entering the kitchen, Nigel boiled himself a mug of nettle tea, before retiring to the room that doubled as a study and sleeping chamber. He kept many of his books here, core ingredients of Academic magic. Selecting a suitable volume, he settled down to read.

Ambient Magic was rare, he knew: though many Ambient Mages remain undiscovered for extended periods, so it is possible that is far more common than anyone realised. They posses little power in the beginning as, unlike Academic Mages, they serve more as a conduit for the power than a source. This also means that, whereas Academic Mages have difficulty in building up their strength and are often tired by their later works, Ambient Mages have the opposite problem. Unfortunately, he knew little more than that, save that each Ambient Mage drew power from a particular craft, natural substance or elemental force. Unless he could determine the source of Beryl power, there was little he could teach her.

Nigel spent the evening in the library of the local Mages guild, trying to make sense of the images Beryl's power had produced. Though they had an entire section dedicated to Ambient Magic, none of it seemed to fit.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?"

Nigel turned to face the Librarian, a short, white-haired woman who bore her aura of power like a cloak. She claimed to know every book on her shelves, and most believed her, but Nigel had already been through every book in the Ambient section.

"I found a young Ambient Mage this morning, and I am trying to identify the source of her power. It's not one I've encountered before, so I wanted to pin it down before I proceeded any further."

"Did you test her power?"

"Not extensively," he replied, "She had shattered some cobbles with it, so I tried to induce a vision of her power. It's not one I recognise."

"What did it look like?"

"Stones crashing on stones, Boulders cracking under blows, Pebbles crumbling under pressure."

"Sounds like a stone Mage" She mused.

"Not quite" he sighed, "Stone does seem to be central to her power, but the visions were all about things happening to stones, not the stones themselves."

"Things happening to stones" she asked.

"Quite deliberate things, they felt like."

"Masonry, perhaps," the Librarian suggested, but Nigel Nettlehand shook his head.

"I did not see the stones get built with."

"They where being shaped, perhaps?"

"Most likely," he agreed, "But it was far more than simple carving. There seemed to be a practical edge to work, as well."

"So, a craft that shapes stone to a practical purpose," the Librarian was thinking aloud now, her voice soft and her eyes distant. Then a flicker of realisation focused her gaze.

"Knapping," she said.

"No," Nigel disagreed, "Sleep was not an issue,"  
"Not sleeping, Master Nettlehand," she replied, "Knapping, the craft of shaping stone to a particular purpose. Historians believe it to be one of our oldest crafts."

"That sounds more reasonable," he allowed.

"It survives to modern times, in masonry and stone carving, but most of the craft has fallen out of use. One of our members has been making a study of craft, would you like to see him?"

"Definitely." Nigel replied without hesitation, "My task will be hard enough, misunderstanding her power could be Fatal. And thank you, Librarian."

"It is no bother, Master Nettlehand." she smiled upon him, "I took this job because I like to help."

The following day, Nigel returned to the abode of Freewoman Sumalee bearing two stones. One, a round hammer-stone. The other, a small flint nodule. Loremaster Flintstone had outlined a small spear blade on the latter, advising that Beryl should be able to extract the blade in a single stroke if their suspicions were correct.

Five minutes after arriving, he looked down on the perfectly formed blade. It's edges glimmered with faint traces of Beryl's magic, which lined up with the magic he'd seen flare into the flint when she struck it. There could be no doubt.

"What does this mean, Master Nettlehand?" Beryl asked, her eyes on the flint.

"It means, Beryl," he replied, "That you are an Ambient Knapper."


	9. Planeslord and Leia

A Planeslord Steals Leia

"No!" she cried surging forward to accost Tarkin with her bound hands, only for Darth Vader to seize her from behind, pulling her back and forcing her to watch the catastrophe unfold. Tarkin turned to the screen and became motionless. Her eyes fixed on the screen, Leia barely noted the other officers follow suit. Only Vader's sudden stillness struck her as in any way strange, but the lights on the Death Star continued to blink in their pre-programmed sequences, the background hum of the busy station barely changed.

Then a glowing man appeared out of thin air in front of her. That she noticed.

"Hello Leia," he spoke without moving his face, the words seeming to echo in her mind without ever passing her ears, "It appears that you are in quite some trouble."

"Alderaan is about to be destroyed, and you're worrying about me?" she squeaked, her usual control absent.

"Shouldn't you be?" he asked, his melodious voice calm, "You can't save her, and I can only hold these people for so long."

Glancing around, Leia finally noted the frozen faces that seemed ignorant of all. It was as if time stood still – save that the running lights still ran, and the background noise of an operational station continued.

"Can't you save Alderaan, please?" she begged the glowing figure, if you can do this..."

"I could crush the Death Star, perhaps deflect it's beam?" the figure queried as it drifted left and right, seemingly bemused by the tiniest detail on the walls, "Perhaps I could, but why would I? Why take that risk, that chance? What would I gain from such a reckless involvement?"

"My Father is very wealthy..." she stammered out, knowing that this chance, Alderaan's last, was sliping through her fingers, only to be disappointed when the figure shook his head.

"I would not act for all the wealth in the Galaxy, for there is little it could buy me that I would hold any value in," he gently admonished her, "You have but one thing left to offer me, but it would cost you _everything_ – are you truly prepared to make that sacrifice?"

"Anything." she begged, tears of desperation dripping from her eyes.

"Not anything, Leia, Everything." she felt his focus narrow and even Alderaan faded away, "You have nothing to offer, except _you_."

The princess of Alderaan was not stupid, she quickly grasped what the strange apparition was hinting at. Nonetheless, she immediately caved to his demands, only to receive a sad little shake of the head in return.

"Oh, little princess," it's voice echoed with the barest trace of smug condescension, "It's not quite that simple. If you give yourself to me mind, body and soul, to save Alderaan; there will be consequences – more than you can imagine. Whilst your personal fate is severe enough, you should realise that you would be forever dead to the galaxy. Official records show that your ship was lost with all hands to pirates, that would be your final legacy. More than that, the destruction of Alderaan would have sounded the Empire's death knell. Imperial forces suffer mass desertions in it's aftermath, and fence sitters find themselves firmly set against the Empire. The subsequent destruction of the Death Star would be a huge symbolic win for the Rebellion, finally uniting the scattered rebels into a proper alliance and leading to a huge surge in recruitment as well. Without Alderaan's sacrifice, none of this happens. The rebellion remains small and scattered, the Empire overwhelmingly dominant. No guarantee they'll screw up like this again. Is that something you're prepared to give up, Leia?"

"Surely you can..."

"What, Leia?" she felt very small as the apparition regarded her with a level gaze, "Fake Alderaan's destruction? Perhaps publicise the Empire's crimes – that's worked so well in the past."

Leia's head hung, shame burning her cheeks red. Though the apparition's voice remained perfectly level, the sarcasm of his words burned. Eventually, after several long moments of stillness, it sighed.

"It seems that Tarkin had Imperial Propaganda prepared for the fall of Alderaan – it's how the act was originally disseminated." he informed her, "As it's Imperial, and authorised, it's unlikely to be blocked until it's too late for a retraction. The news of Alderaan's destruction may lack much of it's impact without any actual destruction to back it up, but the Empire's boasting may do much of the damage even then. The rebellion will have it's Cause, and the Empire will most likely grant them the prestige of the station's destruction regardless of the truth – would that sate you, princess? Is that enough of a sacrifice for Alderaan?"

"Y-yes, sir." she replied, hesitant but firm, "Save her, and I am yours."

"A pretty little sex slave," he replied, before his voice acquired a warning tone, "Eternity is a long time, but you'll learn to share."

Leia dumbly nodded as the apparition faded, and the others resumed animation. Vader turned her gaze towards the screen, and her homeworld. Tarkin just stared at it, eager to see the results of his grand scheme. The officers bent to their tasks, powering the mighty weapon that would annihilate the planet below. She watched a mighty beam of green blast across the view to strike her home, denials ringing in her mind.

Nothing. Alderaan survived the blast.

"What happened!" Tarkin demanded, scowling at his officers.

"Unknown," came the reply, "We recorded the beam entering Alderaan's atmosphere, but it appears to have been neutralised."

"Neutralised? How?"

"That would be me." a new voice interjected.

Leia tore her eyes from the screen to see her new master standing there. No mere apparition this time, he appeared human but for the unmistakable aura of power he wore. The pressure on her shoulder vanished as Vader attacked, but Master deflected his lightsabre with a swipe of his hand, catching the follow-up to immobilise the weapon.

"Poor form, old man," Master admonished the cyborg, "But what can one expect from an empire founded on treason?"

Vader staggered as the station shook underfoot, but Master vanished. A moment later she felt a renewed pressure on her shoulder and the scene faded to reveal the bridge of a different ship. The Death Star loomed large on the main viewer as a needle thin lance of red bored into it's Superlaser. Master stepped into view and took a seat at the centre of the room, his practiced eyes taking everything in at a glance.

"Report."

"We are approximately one minute from breaching the Death Star's main reactor," one woman responded.

"Signal intercepts reveal a mild panic on the world below," another reported, "Those which missed the attack are quite disconcerted by the Imperial news reporting their demise."

"The Death Star's transmission of propaganda is proceeding apace," a third added, "They should have a reasonable amount done before it dies."

"Good." Master's eyes bored into the screen until the Death Star exploded, then turned to face Leia, "Alderaan intact, Death Star gone, Imperial propaganda making a humiliating mess of the whole affair – you know what that means, Leia?"

Leia nodded before kneeling before him in a posture of absolute submission. Her hands (unbound? When had that happened) locked behind her, her head down, she answered him the only way she could:

"Mind, body, Soul; I am yours now and forevermore."

"Good girl," she felt his hand in her hair as he gently patted her, "Aspian will tell you what you need to know."

Leia felt a hand on her shoulder, as yet another beauty guided her away from the bridge.

"First things first, Clothing." She was told, "The Master doesn't mind us flaunting our bodies as long as we don't expose the goods in public. He found this wonderful bronzium bikini for you..."

 _A/N: Based upon my build for Planeslord Initiation by TroyXPage_


End file.
